Parasite
by poised-delicate-pause-consent
Summary: A woman goes into House's office with a stomach ache. After telling her to go home, she goes into respiratory arrest. Is this just a minor problem or something serious? Can House and the team find out what's wrong before it's too late? Finally Complete
1. Arrest

Why? That was the only question that Dr. Gregory House could ask himself. Oh, and what? as well. Why was she dying? What caused it? Why was she brought here? House popped a Vicodin into his mouth and chewed it. Usually he dry-swallowed them whole, but today he savored the horrible, bitter taste of the pain killer. As he slowly chewed the pill, he pondered the woman's case.

She had come in three days ago, complaining of a stomach ache. House thought back on the day she came in.

"_It hurts, Dr. House, it hurts _so_ much!"_

"_Well, what have you eaten? Surely you just need to take a dump. Let me prescribe you some laxatives."_

"_You ass! I would _know_ if I had to make a bowel movement! This is abnormal!"_

"_You shouting at me won't make anything better. In fact, you are making me want to leave your case entirely. Go home and sit on the freaking can!" House left the room. Right before he closed the door, he heard her choke. He rushed in. She was clutching her throat and gasping. _

"_Respiratory arrest! I need backup, damn it!" shouted House. Three nurses rushed in and attended to the blue-faced woman. She was passed out now._

"Dr. House?" House snapped out of his daydream and looked at the young, beautiful face of Dr. Allison Cameron.

"Dr. Cameron?" he replied.

"Dr. Cuddy wanted me to see you."

"Why? Am I in trouble? Does she want me to beg?"

Cameron sighed. "I was walking past her office and she wanted me to come her and tell you that you have a patient in exam room one."

"And she couldn't have told me this herself?"

"She knew that I was headed this way and she wondered if I could do her a favor. She's very busy at the moment, filing papers and trying to fix all of the things that _you_ screwed up on."

"Aw," House pouted with sheer sarcasm, "if I never screwed up, Cuddy wouldn't have a job then I guess."

Cameron slammed the patient's file on Dr. House's desk. "NOW House!" She spun around and headed for the door, swishing her long hair behind her.

"Aw, you're so cute when you're mad. Hey, next time, you spin like that; wear a lower-cut top. I'd like to see what the girls do when you make sudden moves."

Cameron stopped and looked at House with a reproachful glare. House met her eye and saw that she was pleased that he noticed her. Behind the glare, he saw light that danced in her eye when he looked at her. House picked up the file and grabbed his cane. He limped to the door and sighed. _I wonder what crap this patient is going to put me through today_, he thought to himself. As he exited his office, he saw Cameron walking down the hall. He admired her taut ass for a moment, then set off in the opposite direction.


	2. Flirting

It wasn't that House hated his job, he loved being a doctor, it was the stupidity of patients. He met people every day that thought that they were dying when all they had was a cold. He hoped that this patient, a Ms. Laura Berks, would at _least_ have something that couldn't be treated at home. Not because he wished ill on her, but because he wanted to do a job that he was trained to do—a job that a six-year-old couldn't.

"I'm Dr. House," he said as he came though the door.

"I'm Laura. You can call me Pookie," she said, eyeing him and giving him a little smirk. She liked him.

_Great, _another_ woman who wants in my pants_, thought Dr. House. "I'd rather not," he replied.

"I see your name is Gregory. Do you ever go by Greg? How about Gweggy? Or Wittle Baby Gweg?"

"Your flirting and baby talk is getting us nowhere. What is wrong with you, other than the fact that you need a psychologist to help you with your chronic flirting?"

"I have a sore throat. I've had it for weeks. Can you fix me, Baby?" she asked him, still flirting. She pulled up her skirt at bit and unbuttoned her top two buttons. Usually, House _liked_ it when pretty girls flirted with him, but this one had issues. Wittle Baby Gweggy indeed.

"I don't need to examine your chest to diagnose strep throat, which is what you obviously have. I'll give you a prescription for five hundred milligrams Amoxicillin." He began to scribble the prescription on a card.

"I know that you don't _need_ to see my chest for the _throat_ exam, but the breast exam is coming up," she giggled.

"Dear god, what could be wrong with them?" he asked, not wanting her to give him a strip tease. Too late. She Ripped off her button-down blouse and unhooked her bra.

"Nothing seems to be wrong with them, said House, looking away. Normally, he would have been tickled to see something like this, but not from her. She disgusted him.

"I know, I just wanted you to see what you're missing by not taking me to dinner."

"Put your shirt back on. I don't date sluts. Take the damn prescription."

Laura took the prescription out of his hand and flounced out of the office.


	3. Hippie

Blood was drawn from Summer Lake's arm. To distract her from the pain, Dr. Robert Chase engaged in simple conversation. "So, you have an unusual name. I like it, it's very pretty," he commented.

"Psh," she said, "Summer Lake. It sounds like a resort or a country club. My mother was a real hippie. She got with this man named Winston Lake which worked to her convenience. She could give me a flower child name."

"All done," said Chase, removing the needle and applying a cotton ball to the wound. He took a piece of medical tape and put it over the cotton ball. "Can I get you anything, Ms. Lake? Would you like water or juice or a snack or something to make you more comfortable?

"I'm fine, Dr." was her reply.

Chase left the room and found Dr. Cameron talking to Dr. Eric Foreman. "Cameron, Foreman, we need to meet Dr. House in his office now. Let's go," he said in his soft Australian accent.

Cameron nodded and began to walk. Foreman and Chase followed her, smirking at each other. They knew full well that Cameron had a little thing for House. She wanted to get there first so that she could have a few seconds alone with him.

"Stomach ache, bloody stool, and it gets worse while eating. Can only be one thing. _Ulcer_. Start treating Ms. Summer Lake immediately." The team nodded. An ulcer is a fault in the stomach lining. The lining of the stomach replaces itself every month. If it doesn't, the highly acidic stomach acid begins to make the stomach digest itself. A place where the lining doesn't meet all of the way or makes a hole is called an ulcer. The ulcer can wear a hole in the stomach and spill acid onto other organs if not treated in time.

"That doesn't explain the respiratory arrest," said Foreman.

"Sure it does," said House. "Have you ever _had_ a stomach ulcer?" Foreman shook his head. "Well, it creates so much pain that you are bound to have panic attacks. Also the fact that I nearly kicked her out of the exam room and said that I wasn't going to help her might've scared her, too."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! Chase's beeper went off. "Lake!" he cried. The team ran, with the exception of the cripple House who limped as fast as he could. He figured that it was time to meet the patient again.

"She's not breathing and she's seizing!" cried the nurse. The team gathered around the woman, doing their best to revive her.


	4. Scraped

"She's dying, House. An ulcer wouldn't do that to a person. There has to be another explanation," said Cameron, worried.

"There is—cancer. Stomach cancer to be exact. I'll have Wilson run the tests. Dr. James Wilson was a cancer specialist; he also happened to be House's best friend. Strike that—his _only_ friend.

"I'm going to have to take a scraping for cancer," said Dr. Wilson to Summer Lake. "I am going to insert a catheter with an attachment down your throat and into your stomach. The attachment will scrape a little bit of your stomach and we'll test it. You will feel some discomfort."

Summer nodded. Wilson took the catheter and eased it into her mouth. She gagged when it hit her uvula. "Hold on, Ms. Lake. Squeeze the nurse's hand," said Wilson. Summer took the blonde nurse's hand while the nurse said comforting words. Wilson gently pushed the tube down her throat into her esophagus. "Swallow, Ms. Lake," instructed Wilson. Summer swallowed. She met Wilson's eye and he saw that she wanted to know why she just swallowed.

"You had to swallow because I couldn't have the tube go into your lungs. When you swallow, little trap doors, so to speak, close and keep whatever you're swallowing from going into your lungs, nose, and ears." Summer met his eye again in thanks. When the tube reached her stomach, Wilson meandered it about, making Summer gag.

"Ready? I have to pull it out now, Ms. Lake," said Wilson, softly. Summer met his eye. Wilson slowly pulled on the thin tube. After a few seconds, it was out. Summer coughed and gasped.

"Are you alright, Ms. Lake?" asked Wilson.

"Just fine, Doctor. Thank you. When will I be able to see my results?"

"Dr. Chase will come in a couple of hours and let you know everything that is going on with you. See you later, Ms. Lake." Wilson walked out of the room with the attachment in a plastic bag. He got on the elevator and headed toward the lab.

In the lab, he divided the scraping and put some onto three different slides. He dribbled a different indicator on each one and looked long and hard into the microscope. He adjusted the microscope to magnify more, but no matter what he did, how high the power of the microscope was, or which way the sample was turned, he couldn't find anything. The sample was clean.

"House is going to have a field day when he finds out that she is clean," muttered Wilson to himself.


	5. Clipping

"_Clean_?" asked House. Wilson was right—House went ballistic. "It _has_ to be cancer! There's no other explanation!"

"I _did _all the tests. I spent an hour looking at _nothing_! She doesn't have cancer!"

"You idiot! You probably didn't scrape enough! Next time, take a clipping. It gives you more to work with!"

"Who's the cancer specialist here? I _know _what I'm doing, House!"

"Take a _clipping_," said House, glaring at his best friend.

"That," said Wilson, "would hurt her more."

"You're worried about her pain? We're trying to save her life for God's sake! Damn! Are you a doctor or a freaking massage therapist? Don't worry about her discomfort as much as her life!"

"If I clip her lining, she'll get a real ulcer!"

"If her lining is healthy enough, it'll grow back quickly," said House. "Take the damn clipping."

Wilson got up and walked out of House's office.

"Clipping? You need to cut my stomach?"

"The scraping yielded too small of a sample," said Wilson. "Dr. House and I think that a bigger sample will give more accurate of a result."

"The first one hurt enough, having that tube down my throat, but you want me to feel you cutting a chunk off of my stomach? Can you put me to sleep or give me Twilight anesthetic?"

"I wish that I could, but no. I can't have you lying down while we do this procedure. The tube is thin and there is room for you to breathe when you are sitting up. If you are lying, gravity takes over. Your esophagus flattens by a little bit and gives less room for oxygen. I can't have you suffocate."

Summer nodded. Wilson took a tube with a scissor-like attachment on it and pushed it down her throat. "Swallow," he instructed. When he saw her stomach on the screen, he adjusted the scissors to be near to a protruding part of the wall. He got the blades next to it and pressed the clamps in his hand and cut. Summer twitched in pain. He gently used the scissors to hold on to the piece and drew it up.

"Take these pills, Ms. Lake," he said, handing her a tiny cup with two pink and blue pills and another small cup of water. She obeyed.

"What are the pills for?" she questioned.

"I had to clip a piece of your lining. These pills will help your stomach rebuild a new one faster so that you don't contract an ulcer. Also, you can't eat heavy foods until tomorrow morning. All we can give you is toast and distilled water for now. They are basic and won't cause your stomach acid to be as strong. After we are sure that your lining is back, you can eat normally again. She nodded.

In the lab, Wilson cut the sample into three parts and put them on slides. Using the indicators, he looked at them under the microscope. What he saw didn't surprise him—she was clean.


	6. Clean

"Clean. It is freaking clean. _How could it be clean_?" screamed House.

"It can be clean because there is no cancer," said the oncologist.

"Don't get smart with me, Wilson," snarled House.

"Then don't get stupid with me!" retorted Wilson.

"I'm sorry that _every single frigging one_ of her symptoms point to cancer and you can't find _any_ sign of said cancer! Did you check her intestines?"

"Number one, I'd need to go deeper in…the clipping almost killed her…her eyes were watering and she was twitching. Number two; it is the upper portion of her belly that hurts _clearly_ indicating that it is her actual _stomach _that is bothering her. If I found it necessary, I _would _have gone all the way to the intestine! It was _un_necessary!" Wilson's eyes were fire. It had been a while since he fought with his best friend. House was like a brother to him. They fought regularly, but never like this. After a moment, Wilson realized just who he was fighting with and calmed his glare.

House sat down and put his hand to hid forehead. "Tropical disease," muttered House. Did she ever go to a foreign country?"

I wouldn't know. Cameron interviewed her when she came in, not me. Ask her."

"Get Cameron for me, and make sure that she's wearing something sexy."

"Pig," muttered Wilson.

"What was that, Wilson?"

"Whatever you want it to be, House. I'll get you Cameron." Wilson left the office in search of Cameron.

"House would like to see you in his office, Cameron," said Wilson when he caught up with her. She was in the lab reading. She was often in quiet places to read or think. "And by his personal request, he wants you to be wearing something 'sexy'," he added as he left the lab.

Cameron scoffed quietly. House. Good old chauvinist pig House. She looked down at her stylish flowered button-down top. Sure, she could unbutton it a little bit more, but she could also button it up a bit more as well just to annoy him. She decided the latter. She wasn't his Playboy bunny. She was a serious doctor. She left the lab and headed toward House's office.

Cameron entered the office. House noted that she wasn't wearing _anything_ sexy. Either Wilson didn't do his job or Cameron is just stubborn.

"Did Ms. Summer Lake ever go out of the country in the last year?" asked House.

"Why?" asked Cameron.

"What she has could be a tropical disease. If she went anywhere, I need to know where."

"Well, I asked her when she first came in and she told me that she hadn't been anywhere since her husband died last year of meningitis."

House covered his face with his hands and sighed. "Leave, Cameron," he ordered. Cameron gave him a short, reproachful look and exited the office, leaving House in his thoughts.


	7. Everybody Lies

This brought House to his questions. Why was she dying? What caused it? He sat in his office for one hour thinking. When the clock struck five, he grabbed his cane and headed off. At home, he sat thinking. There was no other explanation. Cancer would rule out all of the symptoms that she was experiencing, but according to Wilson, she was _clean. _

According to Cameron, she stayed _local_.

She was dying and there was nothing that he could do about it.

The next day at the hospital, House sat in his office and did research. He typed in her symptoms into several different websites. "House, exam room one," called Cuddy as she passed his office. House logged off of the computer that yielded no information, picked up his cane, and headed out the door.

"I thon no ih juh thweled uh," said the patient with a swollen tongue.

"What's even _more _amazing is that I understood that you said, 'I don't know, it just swelled up,'" said House. "It's an allergic reaction. What did you eat? Wait, don't tell me, and just write it down. When you speak, you spit. It's kind of icky." He handed her a pen and a pad of paper.

He read the words on a paper. They read: _I'm allergic to pepper and I ate a spicy chicken sandwich. Usually, I just get a rash._

"You're allergic to pepper and you ate a spicy chicken sandwich?" asked House. She nodded. "Here, take this," he said, handing her a purple pill. "It's an antihistamine. It'll stop the allergic reaction. Next time, don't bother me, take a Benadryl." He left the room and went back to research Summer Lake's case.

He typed in her symptoms once again into the computer. He only got one link that had nothing to do with cancer. He clicked on it and saw that it was rare and unusual. No way that a woman who had never left New Jersey once could have contracted it. But then again…

_Everybody lies_


	8. Fargella

Summer Lake lay sleeping in her bed. Yesterday's procedures fatigued her. Having a tube shoved down your throat and scissors cutting into your stomach was an exhausting and painful thing to go through. She had to go through it twice in two hours. All she wanted to do now was to die peacefully with no more painful procedures. Screw this, House and the team would never find the cause of her death.

She was suddenly awakened to the sound of House's voice. "Wake up, I'm going to save your life," it said.

Groggily, she sat up in her bed. "Wha…?" she asked.

"I…am…going…to…save…your…life," he repeated ridiculously slowly.

"No more. I don't want any more procedures…the last one was too painful…and for what? You found nothing. There was no gain from the pain that you put me through."

"Well, if you take this treatment, there will be. It's painless, and you'll live."

"Live," she laughed, "I have nothing more to live for. Jim died…I have no children…"

"Live for yourself, damn it! Life is what you make it!"

"This coming from the most hermit-like and rude man on the planet."

"I'm not giving myself advice, I'm giving _you_ advice and I suggest that you take it!"

"What do I have?" she asked, finally, after a long silence.

"First, you have to admit to me that you've been out of the country. It's the only way that you could have contracted this disease; this parasite."

"I went to South America," she said after another silence, "I went a month ago. I didn't want my boss to ever find out. I have no more vacation time and I had to use sick time for three days to go on the trip. It was for my church!" She began to cry. "If I had known that my trip would have made a difference, I would have told you! Don't tell my boss!"

"Everybody lies," whispered House, more to himself than anybody. "You have a rare parasite that you got from drinking the water. Did they not tell you to only drink the bottled water provided? Where did you drink it from, anyway?"

"The lake! I was dying of thirst and the group was a ways away. I wandered off by myself for a while to collect my thoughts! What kind of parasite?"

"It's called a fargella worm. The worm gets ingested and lives in your stomach where it can withstand the acid. It secretes a type of acid that reacts with your gastric acid and causes the pain. The acid eventually digests, causing the other symptoms. The acid goes into the bloodstream and gets distributed throughout the body, causing seizures and respiratory arrest, which were some of your symptoms.

"I ordered the medication that will kill the worm. It arrives this afternoon. You will take two pills at every meal for three weeks. You should be fine after that."

"Pills? That's it?" she asked.

"Well, we could just go hunting and try to surgically remove the worm."

"Pills are fine," she said, smiling at him.

Author's Note: The fargella worm doesn't exist…I made it up, so if you have these symptoms, you don't have it. You have something different. :)


	9. Thanks

Three days later, Summer Lake was discharged from the hospital

Three days later, Summer Lake was discharged from the hospital. Once they put her on the pills, she began to show great improvement. As the nurse wheeled her out of her room, she asked, "May I see Dr. House?"

"Dr. House is very busy, Ms. Lake. Allow me to give him your message," replied the nurse.

"No, I need to see him personally! Please!" she cried. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"Sweetie, there's nothing to cry about. Dr. House will get your message, I assure you."

"No, it won't be the same. I need to…"

"What's the begging about?" came another voice from behind them.

"Dr. House!" cried Summer.

"Ms. Lake?" asked House.

"I wanted, before I left, to thank you."

"You couldn't have the nurse do that?"

"I thought that it would mean more to say it personally," said Summer, hurt.

"It does," said House, and then he walked away. The nurse pushed Summer's wheelchair to her car. On her drive home, Summer praised God and thanked him for Dr. House.


End file.
